


You're Punishment Enough

by makingitwork



Series: Chase/House [41]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Vicodin, because hurt Chase is the best Chase, relationship build up, set season 1/2, warning of attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 03:31:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2214189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House punishes Chase for the Volger incident.</p><p>Not in the good way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Punishment Enough

"Why did you even hire me if you're not going to take anything I say seriously?" Foreman sighed irritably, from where he was sat at the glass table, glancing at the patients case file, House huffed a laugh

"Please, I hired you because you're a good doctor! I hired Cameron because she was a good doctor-" Cameron beamed from where she sat beside Foreman "-And I hired Chase because his daddy made a phone call."

Chase stiffened, his back was to House and he'd been making himself coffee. Shoulders tense, he locks his jaw, taking a moment to hide the hurt in his eyes. He should be used to this by now. House had been punished him for the Volger incident for _days._ He stirred his coffee slowly, before taking a sip and turning around. House was staring at him, eyebrow arched expectantly, waiting for Chase to lash out or get angry. But the Australian just smiled pleasantly. "What about an arithmia?"

Foreman nodded "That makes sense, and the other symptoms can be explained by a simple allergy."

Cameron frowned "But that isn't contagious, what does her son have?"

" _Boring."_ House sighed, but nodded "Okay, Chase, go fix her up, Foreman, Cameron, you can go home."

Chase's eyes widened "What? That's not fair! It'll take me hours to do by myself!"

House shrugged, "Better get started then." Before walking back into his office, Foreman and Cameron eyed Chase sympathetically, before Foreman walked out. Cameron hovered a little, her voice quiet

"I could help you, if you like?" She whispered, and just as Chase was about to nod gratefully, House's voice beamed through the glass wall;

"Help him and you're fired!"

...

...

...

It took a lot longer than a few hours, it was 11:30pm when Chase finally finished, because the patient had been lying about their records, and a rib fracture which had punctured the heart. He was slumped over the conference table, head cushioned on a text book. He considered going home, but he was just _so exhausted._ His eyes fluttered closed, but as soon as they did, a cane was smacked down onto the table, and he sat bolt upright like he'd been electrocuted. "House?" He exclaimed "What are you still doing here?"

"I took a nap in Cuddy's office," he shrugged, beaming "I'm nice and refreshed, and here to tell you that you have three clinic hours to complete right now."

"What?" Chase shook his head "No, I finished all of min-"

"I didn't say they were yours." House snapped "Now go."

Chase stared up at House in disbelief, looking for any glimmer of compassion in those stormy grey eyes, but House just stared at him, bored, as though he were some mediocre piece of artwork. He stood, legs a little shaky "House..." he said gently, Australian accent stronger because he was tired "I'm really tired, can't I ju-"

"Clinic hours. Go." House snapped. Chase stared at him pathetically for a moment, before nodding and trudging past him.

...

...

...

"I heard Cameron went on a date last night."

"So?" Chase sighed, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hands. Foreman shrugged

"I don't know, thought you liked her?"

"I don't."

"What about that whole- asking her out every Tuesday?"

"A phase."

"I know why she won't say yes, you know," House called as he strolled in. Chase massaged his temples roughly and Foreman smirked. "It's because the only thing ever going for Chase, in any relationship, is his looks. And Cameron wants someone with some sort of personality." House sat down, easing his leg forward and picking up the file. "You see, our little wombat doesn't have a personality, what woman would want that? He's basically a pretty bean bag."

Chase flinched before he could help himself, and House smirked as he saw it. Point to him. Chase always had a sore spot for his relationships. He stood stiffly "I'm going to help down in the ER,"

"Don't flirt with the nurses!"

...

...

...

"Okay," House nodded, pleased with his ducklings "So who wants to go to prison and find out which drugs our favourite murderer is taking?" The three of them remained predictably silent, before Foreman sighed

"I'll do it," he murmured, he knew he'd be the most comfortable in that sort of environment, he'd visited his brother enough times. But House's lip just upturned smugly, as though he had expected as much.

"Chase, go to the prison."

Chase looked up in shock "What?! Why me? Foreman just said he'd go!"

"And I heard him," House whispered patronisingly "And now I'm telling you to go."

Chase glared at House, before picking up his satchel and swinging it over his shoulder, and heading out. As he headed to the prison, he tried to think back to a time where he _didn't_ hate coming to work. Or rather waking up there, he hadn't been home in ages. Not with House's insane work schedule that only applied to him. He'd loved working with House before, the first two years together had been near to perfect, fun, entertaining, and then Volger had come along, and Chase had betrayed him. Whenever Chase got angry at House, he was reminded exactly why he was being punished, and blinked back tears at the thought that he deserved it. He didn't want to deserve it. He'd only done it to save the job he loved so much! He didn't realise that the only reason he loved the job was because of...because of House. The older doctor shared Chase's sense of humour, and they had a fair amount in common considering their messed up family life.

But that easy, bantering relationship was gone.

"Look at that fine piece of tail!" One of the prisoners leered at him, Chase ignored them, following the guard down to their patients cell. He peered inside the dark and dingy place and the roommate stared at him appreciatively. Chase nodded at the guard, and he was let in, the door clinking shut behind him, the guard muttered about how he'd be back in 15 minutes, and Chase stood there awkwardly.

"So," Chase rubbed the back of his neck "Um...you share this cell with Timothy Bott?"

"I sure do, sweet thang," the large, muscular, tattooed man growled, and Chase shivered instinctively

"U-um, d-do you know if he takes anything? Like d-" Chase never got to finish his question, because the tattooed man was jumping across the cell, and using him as a punching bag. For no reason! He didn't try anything, though the boner pushing at Chase's hips suggested he wanted too, he just kept propelling his fists painfully into Chase's face, and then his stomach, until Chase was just crying and bleeding, not screaming and kicking.

The man pulled off later, falling onto his bunk and drifting to sleep, content seeing Chase as a bloody pulp. Chase cried for the guard to come back, but it was clear that he had forgotten about him. He pulled out his phone, thinking about the police or an ambulance but deciding against it.

He phoned House.

It rang three times, before the call was disconnected, Chase whined, trying again, hot tears streaming down his face. 32 times he tried, and every time, the call was disconnected.

And then he blacked out.

He woke up an hour later, when the guard did remember him. But he just ran, he _ran_ out of that hospital and got into a cab, barking the hospitals address. When he got back, he rushed past all the concerned nurses, and into House's office, where House, Foreman, Cameron and Wilson were discussing Cuddy's actions. Chase pointed a weak, accusing finger at House, blood streaming down his face and showing through his shirt. His bottom lip was cut, and one of his eyes were so black he could no longer see out of it, only cry. "You!" He seethed, pointing at House, shoulders shaking as sobs racked his body "I called you! I-" House eyes widened in shock and concern before he could guard them.

"Chase," Wilson was beside him, touching his shoulder which only made Chase hiss in pain "Come on, we need to get you looked at, how did this happen?"

Chase didn't say anything, just pointed at House.

...

...

...

"Tell me the punishments gone on long enough," Wilson pleaded as they stood beside the sleeping Chase's body. They'd put him into a hospital induced sleep, so his body could heal, and also, he was badly sleep deprived and malnourished. "I mean, Christ House," he scanned through Chase's chart "Dislocated shoulder, multiple lacerations of the skin, head wound, concussion, loss of vision in one eye, malnourishment." He shook his head "He's suffered enough."

House scanned Chase's body and didn't like how _small_ he looked. How innocent and naïve that sun-kissed skin looked dotted with bruises and bright red cuts, didn't like how that black circle around his eye and the little crease between his eyebrows made him look like a victim. "No." House ground out "He hasn't."

Wilson looked up at House in shock "What? House, he could have been killed today!"

"He wasn't."

Wilson sighed, brushing his fingertips over Chase's arm "What do you want from him? An apology, he's given you loads of them, a resignation? You won't let him quit. What do you want?"

House sighed, shrugging "Some true form of regret. I want him to realise that I'm in charge."

"He realises that," Wilson said softly "House, this is just...overkill."

House, the stubborn bastard, ignored his friend.

...

...

...

Chase was up and about in two days, completely fine apart from the bruise around his eye, and he could now see out of it.

And that's when House marked the change in his youngest duckling. Chase no longer got angry at House's cracks about his relationship, family, alcoholic mother, no longer questioned why he was given the longest hours, just went to do whatever House ordered. He still offered thoughts and opinions, was still a smart as he'd always been, but he was quieter now.

"What?" House snapped when Foreman walked into his office, Foreman ignored the fowl mood and sighed

"I think you should cut Chase some slack. He's...he's different. I think he needs some time off."

"I'm sorry, are you his boss?"

"I'm his friend." Foreman said firmly "I don't know what you're punishing him for, I don't know what he did, but House...enough. This is too far now."

...

...

...

The moment House slid his hand into his pocket and didn't find his Vicodin bottle, he knew something was wrong.

He ran, as best as a cripple can run, into the clinic and screamed at the nurses to tell him where Chase was, a few pointed him in direction of the showers, and House was almost sick at the sight.

There was Chase, Chase, _his Chase,_ lying lifeless on the wet floor, House's bottle of pills held limp in his hand, completely empty. "You _idiot!"_ House roared, tears stinging his eyes, loud voice attracting doctors and nurses to rush in, only to gasp at the sight, House dragged Chase under the showers, turning the cold water on so it hit his head, and House rammed his fingers down Chase's throat. "No." House whispered "No, no, you are not dying! No!" and he forced his fingers further, but nothing was happening, the gag reflex wasn't working, so he pinched Chase's nose, almost rammed his whole hand down his throat, until Chase was sick.

...

...

...

"There." Wilson spits at House "That sorry enough for you now?"

House says nothing, sitting beside Chase, who'd vomited up enough of the pills. House wondered briefly why it was _his_ pills that had been chosen. Of course, the metaphorical (or literal) irony wasn't lost on him, his addiction wasn't just killing him, but those around him too. Chase's black eye was completely gone, his body back to it's altar boy, angelic perfection. Wilson stormed out at House's lack of response and the older doctor took Chase's warm hand, twining their fingers together.

"You _idiot,"_ House whispered, blinking back tears "I didn't mean it! I didn't mean any of it! How could you be so stupid!" He pressed the back of Chase's hand to his forehead, shaking.

"Mom?" Chase whispered blearily, he froze when he saw House and groaned pitifully "No-" he sobbed "No, no n-no, I was supposed to _die._ I want to die, House _please-"_

"Chase," House rubbed his arm soothingly "It's okay, it's alright, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Everything's gonna go back to the way it was, I promise."

But Chase just cried.

...

...

...

3 MONTHS LATER

"At least they've stopped checking my prescriptions," Chase sighed. House shrugged

"Can you really blame them? You might try to off yourself again."

"Why would I now?" He asked, wrapped up in a blanket in House's arms, watching a General Hospital Rerun. "I've got you now,"

House presses a chaste kiss to Chase's forehead. _Not now. You've had me for years, He thinks._ "Watch this bit, this is where Sue finds out she's pregnant."

"Is it Joe's?"

"You are so adorable," House chuckled, gently kneading Chase's shoulder "It's Joe's fathers."

Chase rolled his eyes fondly.

**Author's Note:**

> Love you and your comments!  
> x


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